


Nam Omne Finem

by vaughnicus



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Experimental Format, M/M, i wrote this in half an hour, it was necessary, semi-happy ending, slight OOC Bond, sorry about that, trigger for suicide, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaughnicus/pseuds/vaughnicus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is on a bright, clear day that James Bond takes his yearly journey with no intentions of coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nam Omne Finem

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for this. I've been listening to a lot of sad classical music and feeling... complicated. This is the result. I've given it a cursory edit, but it's not been beta'd. Also I took the SAT today, so my brain is functioning at half power.
> 
> The title translates to 'for everything an end' (or so I'm led to believe). 
> 
> You may notice the strange format. As I so eloquently stated in the tags, I'm experimenting. Let me know if it's too confusing. Thank you in advance for lending my work your precious time. I appreciate it more than you know (except perhaps not, seeing as how most of you are also writers). 
> 
> Rating is for language, dark themes, and a semi-explicit but completely not-graphic implied "sex scene." (You'll see what I mean.)

It shouldn’t have happened.

( _“007, I believe the common definition of ‘off’ is ‘not working.’ Why are you calling?” “I thought we could get a drink.” “A… drink?” “Yes, Q, it’s what people do.” “Yes, people. Not agents of MI6 and their quartermasters.” “Are you declining?” “Well… no.”)_

It is a cloudless and sunny day. James hates it.

_(“You’re lying.” “I don’t lie.” “Bond, it is physically impossible to decapitate someone with dental floss.” “Tell that to the Russian.” “Dear God, do girls usually fall for these lines?”)_

The grass is blindingly green beneath his feet as he treads past darkened trees and dried out flowers.

_(“Shall we take this back to the apartment?” “You’re going to have to get me a bit more drunk for that, agent.” “How much more?”)_

His hands are clenched in his pocket, and for the first time in quite a few years, his phone is off. No emergency calls in today.

_(“You’ve taken me out an awful lot this week, James. Is something on your mind?” “Of course not. I just like taking pretty people out for drinks.” “I am honestly not sure whether I should be flattered or offended.”)_

A brightly colored insect darts past. James’ gaze follows it until it alights on a branch. He resists the urge to shoot it.

_(“What’s this?” “What does it look like?” “It looks like the new gun I gave you two days ago. But it can’t possibly be, because it’s in perfect condition.” “Well, it is my job to protect things sometimes.” “Then why haven’t you been?” “I am now.” “Why?” “Maybe I’ve got more motivation.”)_

He never wants to go past the middle of the grounds. It’s the part with the best view of the sea.

_(“Wait, no, I can’t go with you. I’m your quartermaster; I don’t go on missions.” “It’s not dangerous.” “Oh, and that means what, exactly? Your ‘not dangerous’ is my ‘we’ll most likely be maimed at best.’” “Q, it’s to the Caribbean. You need some spine. This’ll be good for you.” “My spine has been ruined since I first saw a computer. Really, my posture’s terrible.” “Shut up and pack a bag.” “Well… I always have loved the ocean.”)_

He forces his feet past where they’ve frozen. On a familiar track, they continue to move forward without his full guidance.

_(“I swear sometimes you couldn’t find your way back home without me.” “Well then, maybe you should take me home.” “Are you joking? That was quite possibly the least smooth transition I’ve ever heard.” “My suggestion stands.” “…”)_

The first time he did this, it felt fruitless. He is a firm believer, after all, in not living in the past. But then he’d tried to ignore it the next time and ended up here anyway. He doesn’t try to resist the urge anymore, and it’s become an unspoken rule back at MI6 that today, he doesn’t exist. It’s strangely fitting.

_(“Oh, God. Your file doesn’t lie.” “Of course not. Files only state the facts, you know.” “Do you know… I’ve never… done it this way before.” “You learn something new every day. Good you have a skilled teacher, hmm?” “Oh, yes, very good. Very – ah! Fuck.- good.” “Heh. You know, this is supposed to be a give and take thing.” “Fuck you.” “I’m just – oh.” “Yes, oh.” “Where the hell did you learn that?” “Just because I ‘still have spots’ doesn’t mean I’m not experienced.” “Apparently.” “Now. Shut up and get this – oh, God. God. James!”)_

His goal is way back at the edge of the grounds, in amongst the shadows and bushes.

_(“You know, even the first-years know about us now.” “Of course they do.” “I’m not kidding, James. I heard Elle telling Marcus about that, erm, moment at the shooting range today. Apparently we’re not as careful as we think we are.” “You might not be.” “That was your ide- oh. You bastard.” “I thought it’d be easier this way.” “If you wanted to tell people, I would have agreed! You didn’t have to be so subversive!” “Subversion is how I make my living.” “Not with me, James.”)_

There couldn’t be a better spot, really.

_(“I came as fast as I could! What’s… wrong?” “Um, surprise?” “What the hell is this?” “It’s your birthday.” “Is it?” “Yes. I looked it up.” “That still doesn’t answer my question – what the hell is this?” “It’s a celebration, idiot.” “Why would we be celebrating?” “Will you shut up? Sit down. I made you a cake.” “That was… nice. Are you testing a new poison?” “Will you sit down, you twat?”)_

He reaches said goal and stops, feet cemented in place, gaze fuzzy and unmoving.

_(“I’m impressed, Q.” “What? My mother taught me some things. How to cook, for instance. Granted, I don’t have much time to utilize the skill.” “How long did you know her?” “Who?” “Your mother.” “Ah… eight years.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “Yes, me too. She was lovely.” “I would have liked to meet her.” “And she would have loved you.” “Really?” “Oh yes. She was all for the strong, silent types.”)_

He’s never sure how long he stays there. Today the sun is bleeding by the time reality comes back into focus.

_(“Come over?” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “I’m working on a program.” “Oh. Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Right. Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” “Love you.” “What? … Q… Q?!”)_

( _“Come over.” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “Same program.” “Since when does it take you two days to finish one program?” “It’s a complicated program.” “Fine.” “I’ll be done by tomorrow.” “All right. … Q?” “Yes, Bond?” “I… return your sentiment.”)_

_(“Come over.” “Okay.” “It’s about time.” “Oh, don’t give me that. I need to get properly dressed – been in the same clothes for three days. Do you want to meet somewhere?” “You’re not hygienic when you’re invested in a project, are you? No, just come over.” “No, I’m not. More important things to worry about. World security, for one. I’ll be there in twenty.”)_

_(“Bond?” “Here.” “I think someone’s following me.” “Oh.” “They’ve been a block behind me for five minutes now. I’ve never seen them before. I think – shit. He’s getting closer.” “Where are you?” “Hampton. Few minutes away.” “I’ll come out.” “Yeah. Okay.” “Act normal.” “Right. I – right.” “I’m on my way now.” “Of course. Right. God.” “What is it?” “He’s gaining. Do I speed up? Is that normal? Maybe he’s just going the same way.” “No such thing as coincidence, Q. Speed up. I’m almost there.” “Yeah, okay. Okay.” “Coming out. Hampton?” “Yeah. Yeah. I - Fuck!” “What?” “He’s got a gun!”)_

_(“It’s all right. You’re all right.” “You’ve always been a shitty liar.” “Trust me, I’ve had worse.” “You’re a lot stronger than me.” “That’s not true.” “God… it hurts. It hurts.” “I know.” “Make it stop.” “I can’t.” “I know… I know, sorry.” “Don’t be.” “God! James… I don’t want to die.” “You’re not dying.” “I know basic anatomy, James.” “Apparently not. Now stop talking.” “Not going to ruin our last chance at a conversation, are you?” “Q, stop. You’re not dying, really.” “Take something seriously for once, James. … It doesn’t hurt so bad now, anyway.” “See? You’re fine.” “Denial doesn’t suit you. Please, James, just… don’t do anything stupid, okay? Don’t get yourself killed on a mission.” “No promises unless you stop this.” “No. Don’t do that. Promise me. Now.” “I can’t.” “You can and you will, agent.” “... okay.” “Okay. Okay, good. Okay. Fuck. Okay.” “You’re all right.” “Yeah, I know I am. And so are you. We’re both all right. We’re both… all right. … James.” “Here.” “The inevitability of time, hm?” “Still just a bloody ship.” “… 007.” “Q.”)_

_(“… They’re here. Q, they’re here. Come on, get up… Stop this. This isn’t how it works! You’re not the one to go out first! God damn it, Q, get up!”)_

His knees suddenly feel the strain of standing in place for a day and Bond kneels carefully, feeling every one of his years. His throat tightens, but he clenches his fists and swallows. Nothing has gotten past his walls since the first time he came here four years ago. The gravestone is silent in front of him. It’s nearly blank, engraved neatly in the center with a single black letter.

“You never even told me your fucking name. Bastard.”

And this is how an agent grieves  - with anger, with denial, with banter to someone who will never reply.

His hand reaches out and touches the cold stone. The frigid surface sends a shot of ice up his limb and to his chest, branching through the empty cavity within. He curls his fingers back into his hand and pulls away with a deep inhale.

“I found the man who did this.”

Three months ago the murderer of MI6’s most beloved and successful quartermaster was ID’d in an automated facial recognition scan. They sent 007 and never asked questions.

“He’s dead.”

They knew his exact whereabouts. An extermination mission would have taken half a day. He didn’t come back for three.

“This is stupid.”

A hardened double-oh agent talking to an inanimate slab of concrete. Who would have thought?

“You're going to hate me in a minute... But you know, I’d die soon anyway. Getting too old for these high-risk missions.”

They will never stop giving them to him, though. Not as long as he’s there and accepting them. When respect is the only thing your best agent has left, you don’t take it away.

“You wouldn’t blame me for this. I know you wouldn’t.” He’s pulling out his old, trusted Walther PPK. “It makes sense.” He turns around and sits against the gravestone. “Always thought I’d go out in a bomb or a gunfight. _This_ used to seem dishonourable.” He takes off the safety; cocks the gun. “Now, I don’t care.”

Actually, he does. But now _this_ seems more honourable than continuing to work until his joints implode in on themselves and innocents die because he can’t finish a mission right.

The silence is deafening in the cemetery as he raises the weapon on the one target he never expected – himself.

“Good thing I never miss, hm? This is all very romance novel of me, isn’t it? I’ll get on with it, then.”

_“Don’t you dare.”_

Eyes snap open. A hard, poisonous gaze searches.

“Who the hell was that?”

_“Who do you think, idiot? Don’t bother looking around. It’s called a coping mechanism. Now put that bloody thing away, will you?”_

He blinks. Waits. Slowly pulls the gun away from his temple.

_“Thank you. Now get up, go back home and get some sleep. Tomorrow tell them you’re done, and for the love of God, Bond, find someplace nice and disappear. For good this time.”_

“Why?”

_“You deserve it.”_

“Bullshit.”

_“Fine. For me, then. Please.”_

“You’re not even real. I’m going insane.”

_“Coping mechanism. Not insanity.”_

“Is there a difference?” Bond waves off his own question as he rises. “This means I can’t come back.”

_“Good.”_

He starts walking away. “You would say that.” He doesn’t look back. The gates are ahead of him. Just before he exits, he stops. Doesn’t turn. “I’m sorry.”

_“Sod off. This was never your fault. Now go and get a life, will you?”_

For the first time in four years, he smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s dipped in bitterness. But he smiles.

And he leaves.

_(“You know this isn’t going to last.” “Must you be so pessimistic?” “I’ll die in the field. Probably soon.” “And I might slip and break my neck tomorrow. Life is full of possibilities.” “No. I’ll die before you. I’ll die bloody.”_

_“For God’s – this is not what I want to hear on a date. No, just – shush. We’ll take life as it comes. Okay? Either of us could drop dead in two minutes. But right now, I’m happy. You’re happy. We’re together. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”_

_“Yeah... That’s enough.")_

 


End file.
